


Mermaid Song

by fichuntie



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Irish Language, M/M, Monsters, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fichuntie/pseuds/fichuntie
Summary: Geralt takes a contract to kill a mermaid. Jaskier wants to see.__ snippet__“Stay back,” Geralt said.Jaskier grasped his arm and peered over it. “Oh, is something up there? Something with tits?”“No,” Geralt elbows Jaskier in the sternum, precisely enough to knock him back without bruising the fragile human. “Stay back,” he repeated.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 10





	Mermaid Song

“Go back and stay at the inn,” Geralt growls. 

“Don’t growl at me. You told me the contract was for a mermaid. Did you really think I was staying at the inn?” Jaskier snarks back. He’s dressed up for the occasion much like he had for the dragon. His doublet is ocean blue with intricate embroidery and his teal pants have a bias cut. Geralt, dressed in black leather, finds the colors painfully bright, but also finds himself looking and looking again at Jaskier. Jaskier’s outfit. 

Geralt hmms, a deep long note from the back of his throat. He doesn’t really know why he’d told Jaskier so much about the contract, what had enticed him into sharing theories over mead, how he’d been drawn into conversation about the contract without meaning to. With other humans, his answers are brief and to the point. But then, most humans don’t care about witcher theories or the difference between selkies and mermaids. They only cared for proof of death, barely tolerating the brush of his leather gloves to take payment. Jaskier had curiosity paired with naive imaginings. Even now, Jaskier is voicing romantic notions about the mermaid creature, rather than disgust. Jaskier’s rambling lilting voice might have a supernatural element, much like the mermaid has. 

Supernatural stupidity in the bard’s case. 

Though it has never made his medallion tremble. Just him, the mutant. 

Geralt and Jaskier were walking to the mouth of the town’s river. The contract was to kill whatever monster was in the river. 100 crowns upon completion. Geralt walked on the river side, careful to keep himself between Jaskier and the water. How Jaskier could walk so close to the water when three men had been drowned - the bard is heedless. Drowners had caught humans with better instincts than the bard with their slick green hands and claws. With witcher senses, Geralt’s alert to any danger and quick enough to cut off a reaching hand before being dragged into the water. He peers at the lush river water; most drowners prefer sandy banks.

Jaskier rambled on, strumming at his lute without a worry. Well, technically Jaskier is loudly detailing the worry that the mermaid won’t be a beautiful centerpiece for his next musical composition, but worries like that don’t count. Geralt pauses, a cluster of reeds catching his attention despite the distraction of one-sided ranting.

“Meletite’s tits, do you think the mermaid will have tits? Do you think they’ll be good tits?” Jaskier asked, continuing to walk along the path. 

Geralt does not answer.

The leaves are out of season and verdant like spring even though the village crops are struggling. Miles behind them, the farms were nearly barren. Not even queen’s lace grew on the fields for his potions, and Geralt overheard conversation of famine coming. The unnatural growth near the river was evidence that something magical was in the water, some slithering magical creature and not just village gossip. 

Jaskier’s still rambling a few meters ahead on the path. He’s now speculating about the mechanics of mermaid reproduction. A topic Geralt will make sure Jaskier avoids. 

Geralt shakes his head. He probably hadn’t even noticed that he’s walking alone. Besides, mermaids lay eggs. Lambert had taught him about the birds and the fish when he’d been 12. Apparently, this is something an Oxenfurt education missed. 

Geralt’s strides are long enough that he catches up quickly. They’re coming to the widening of the river based on the babble of water and bird cries. There’s another sound, covered by the forest but growing louder as they approach. 

Geralt threw his arm out which Jaskier promptly walked into. With his witcher strength, Geralt’s arm did not move, and Jaskier stopped. 

“I really thought we’d gotten past you punching me in the gut,” Jaskier wheezed. 

“Stay back,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier grasped his arm and peered over it. “Oh, is something up there? Something with tits?”

“No,” Geralt elbows Jaskier in the sternum, precisely enough to knock him back without bruising the fragile human. “Stay back,” he repeated.

The village notice was right; the creature is singing. Like a mockingbird, the monster has imitated the human melodies and words. It might have some intelligence, but Geralt worries that it might still need killing. Water creatures are especially territorial and even for a witcher difficult to move without drying out. Geralt has faced worse creatures, of the Wild Hunt and of the water. The issue is protecting Jaskier from the danger. He fixes his golden eyes on the bard, glares, and points to stay put. 

“Hmm,” Geralt says, finally. 

With that done, he notices the faint tremble of his medallion. His attention returns to the Path. As he stalks closer, he can hear its voice more clearly: like an elven bell, it rings out high and pure on notes too perfect to be human. He can also hear Jaskier rustling through the shrubbery behind him. Geralt draws his sword, silver, to face the danger.

The voice seems feminine. Her song has words, and the closer Geralt gets, the clearer her song. In Jaskier, the rolling enunciation is proof of academic training to learn the elder tongue. In a creature such as himself or whatever haunts the river, it is proof of mutant age from living through the centuries and having heard the elder tongue spoken. There’s a familiarity to hearing these long lost words; Geralt almost feels a sympathy for the long lived creature. But there is the matter at hand: Jaskier’s safety and the town’s contract, no room for sentimentality. The long age often means greater power, amassed over time. Geralt downs a potion in preparation, grimacing as he swallows down the mutagen. 

“I will plait a roof of rashes  
For the low place of my sleeping,  
Where the wistful water splashes,  
Crooning, croodling, laughing, weeping,  
And the winds from Cruachan sweeping”

Geralt’s golden eyes can make her out of the water even from the distance. Her upper half leaning against the shore is human enough, but under the shimmering water aren’t legs. The human half out of the water looks like a beautiful woman, long wet tresses along her back, and the hint of breast behind her arms as she idly splashes the water. But her voice harmonizes unnaturally over the water as if the river is a tuning instrument. 

“Morning glad, or starlight pale,  
Through the rivers and the passes,  
Till I find among the grasses  
Long sweet sleep among the grasses  
Of the graves of Inishail.”

Jaskier is being worrisomely quiet. Geralt looks behind him just to make sure the bard hasn’t managed to wander off silently. Or worse, fearlessly wandered closer for a sight of the water creature’s breasts. 

Jaskier stands unnaturally still, head tilted like a dog listening for its master’s whistle. Geralt has seen the man cough blood from a djinn’s curse, but even then he’d been fearful jittery movement, still himself. 

If the lyrics of graves wasn’t enough, the effect of her voice is proof.

**Author's Note:**

> Poem is “Inishail” (possibly by Lauchlan Maclean Watt but idk) with verses out of order  
> From Am Blog Solair, The Peddlar’s Pack  
> https://archive.org/details/ambolgsolairpedd00stor/mode/2up


End file.
